2018 releases

Saturday, May 23, 2015

How did you come to write speculative fiction? What attracted you to the genre?
The first novel I ever read was Lythande, by Marion Zimmer Bradley. Although it was pure fantasy, I fell in love with any fiction that was beyond my everyday realm. Speculative Fiction, in essence I believe, questions the boundaries of what could be and what secretly is – I find this very exciting!

Are you a plotter? Pantser? Or somewhere in-between?
I start as a pantser and when I realise the story or character has potential I make a conscious effort to develop the plot. It always changes though when a character decides to do their own thing.

Do you have a favourite of your characters?
Yes, she’s a sub-character in the first novel I wrote ten years ago. She’s a skilled fighter with sword and knife and keeps her heart guarded. One day I’ll bring her story to light. I’ll keep her name a secret for now but her initials are BB.

What are you currently working on?I’m working on Through The AusHole, a speculative fiction with quirky humour and fantasy elements. My partial 50 pages scored me a publisher interview a few years ago, before I had children, so I’m determined to work through my edits and get it out there.

What is your favourite part of the process of writing?
When a plot twist works, when a character says the perfect line to the bad guy, and of course, finishing!

What can we expect from Christina Craig in the future?
As a writer I simply hope to keep perfecting my craft and getting my novels polished and published. As an artist, designing premade and custom e-book covers as Two Decade Designs.

What are you currently reading?
There’s a lovely newbie at work and when we discovered we liked the same fiction she loaned me her favourite book - Kushiel’s Dart by Jacqueline Carey.

Do you have a favourite spec fiction movie or TV series?
I have enjoyed Tripod, Dr Who, Star Trek Generations, Voyager and Deep Space Nine, Torchwood, Game of Thrones, Stargate, and my favourite movies are Labyrinth, Willow and The Fifth Element.

Do you have any advice for emerging writers?
Don’t compare yourself to others but do aim to master the craft of writing. Listen to your voice because what makes it unique is what will make your story fly.

~~~﻿

Thanks for having me, Chris

Target Solstice (published in the novella collection, Sisters of the Shadows)

They are us … or are they?

The Phain have been trapped on Earth for a century. They pretend to be human. Flesh by day, Phain by night. Some manipulate, use and abuse us. The others defend us, while searching for a way to leave Earth.

When Cressida Ryan’s husband Gabe is killed, she learns his secrets and why her unborn child is a threat to the Phain.

Now she is a target. To save her life she must discover her heritage and follow Gabe’s ghost across the world.

If she can trust the Phain she might survive, and if they trust her, she could give them something even greater.

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Born of the blood of the Celts,
chosen by the Gods—widow, Connor MacDonald seeks a new life, a new beginning.

Fate intervenes.

She is owed a boon by the Gods. What
will they offer her in Redemption for her past great sacrifice?

Excerpt:

At
dusk, the sun made its slow descent across the sky. Connor showered and changed
into a pair of blue denim jeans. Before she pulled on the white cotton shirt
with three quarter sleeves, she caressed the tribal tattoos on each of her
upper arms. The God Killer—Yokami Sukani’s sword and the Sword of War vibrated
their welcome from their resting places under the ink. Images of the Samurai
and his wife, Tomoe Gazen flooded her mind.

As
she buttoned her shirt, she murmured, “I miss you guys, but I so don't miss the
God crap.” A sense of hope for the future settled on her.

With the leather tab between her index finger
and her thumb, she pulled on brown leather boots with three-inch heels and
stood up. She nodded to her reflection in the mirror—good enough. The last thing I need is for the McVeys to think I'm not
up to the job! A bloody man—Jesus!" After she unwound her long braid,
she brushed the wall of hair straight then pulled the thick hank away from her
face and wound it into a tight severe bun. She scooped up the keys from her
dressing table and headed for the front door. She took a quick look around as
she spoke aloud. ‘Well…I guess it’s now or never.”

As
she walked up the stairs to the porch of the main house, she raised her hand to
knock. Loud, raised voices came from inside the house. Her fist stopped in
mid-air. Douglas’s voice boomed above everyone else. “…woman... Christ’s sake… Doona
know… dressage school… booked... cancel… Holy God... mess… I ... Ewan! …hell…should
have… Jesus God!”

Her
chin dropped to her chest as she shook her head. As she stood, the setting sun,
warmed her back. “Oh great, just bloody great!” After two minutes, she squared
her shoulders and pounded on the door with her fist. The shouting stopped almost
immediately. Mrs O’Donough swung the door open—her cheery red cheeks flushed
above her wide smile. “Oh lass, come on in. Tea will be on the table, verra soon.”
She took a step back and ushered Connor into the house.

In
the dining room, the scrape of chairs screeched across the floor as the five
men seated, rose to their feet. Tension thrummed in the room. Her heart
clenched when seated next to Ewan, was a girl with shiny blonde hair. Connor
guessed she was about ten or twelve years old. Next to her, balanced on a fat
blue velvet pillow was an equally blonde boy who was perhaps a little older
than her nephew Ethan; maybe he was three or four. Panic rose in her chest. Oh Shit! Kids! I am so not ready to deal
with kids! The renewed pain of losing James, fanned her rising agitation.

Mrs
O’Donough pulled a chair out at the far end of the table opposite Douglas. “Sit
yourself here, I’ll be gettin’ the meal if anyone needs anythin’.”

Douglas
glowered as he looked over the rim of his glass. “Care for a drink lass?”

“Good
to know Mr McVey, but tea will do me, just fine.” A spike of irritation flared
as he scrutinised her. The silence in the room was claustrophobic.

He
sipped from his glass, while he continued to gaze across the table at her. No
one else in the room spoke.

Five
minutes later, the housekeeper breezed back into the dining room with a tray,
laden with cups and a teapot. “Tea it is lass. I’ll take one with ye meself,
while the vegetables finish off.” Connor almost smiled, imagining the woman
with her ear plastered to the wall in the kitchen, eavesdropping on every word.

She
set the tray down on the table with a clatter. Connor looked up at her and
quirked an eyebrow in thanks. Mrs O’Donough smiled back as she poured two cups,
handed her one then settled back onto her chair.

As
the hot strong tea sang on her taste buds, Connor closed her eyes. “Mmm, thank
you. Tea they say, is good for what ails you. Well most things…” The familiar
bite of grief snapped at her. Hidden beneath her shirt, a solid gold ingot, her
engagement ring and wedder dangled from the chain around her neck. The weight
of the gold, a constant reminder of the past.

The
older woman’s numerous chins wobbled when she nodded her head. “I doona think
ye have met the bairns yet, have ye?” She tipped her cup toward the little girl
sitting on the opposite side of the table. “Tessa?”

The
girl looked over to Connor and smiled “My name is Theresa Mary Margaret McVey,
but you can call me Tessa, and this” she turned and pointed to the little boy next
to her, “is my brother Andrew Angus Michael McVey. But you can call him
Andrew.”

“Hi.
I'm Connor.”

“I
know.” Tessa leaned forward, eyes bright. “My da” she inclined her head toward
Ewan sitting next to her “and my uncles said that you were a bloody woman and
that you are as sexy as hell!”

The
men at the table shuffled and fidgeted in their seats. Ewan groaned and blushed
as he stared at Tessa.

“Well
you did! Don’t say you didn’t, because you did. Sexy as hell that's what you
said” she stared back at him.

Crossing
her arms over her chest, Tessa slow blinked once. “Well I’m not an adult and
you said it in front of me and Andrew.”

Whiskey
slopped onto the tablecloth when he slammed his glass down onto the table. “Tessa!
Enough!”

Mrs
O’Donough threw back her head and bellowed a laugh that seemed to bounce off
the walls. “Oot of the mouths of babes lassie! Never a truer truth be told,
than the truth itself.” She leaned over and dug a chubby elbow into Connor’s
ribs.

Douglas
snorted, his bushy grey brows furrowed as he glared at the housekeeper. “Her
bloody name, is Connor. A lad’s name. How the hell were we to know she was a
lass?”

Momentarily
speechless, she stared at the other woman as she recovered from surprise. Seriously? I guess
news of the world Championship win, hasn't made it up this far!The
first embers of anger, began to glow red. "Yes, something like that, Mrs.
O’Donough.”

“Now,
now, there’ll be none of that Mrs. O’Donough business, lass. We're all family
here. I have been hoosekeeper to this old man before these lads were even born.
So ye can call me O'Dee like evra one else. These lads” she waved her arms
about, “like young Tessa and Andrew here, couldna say O’Donough when they were
wee bairns, so it got shortened a bit to O'Dee and ‘tis been that way ever
since.”

“Well
thank you O'Dee and I appreciate the tea.”

“Jesus
woman!” Douglas thumped his fist on the table as he looked to the housekeeper.
“Enough with the gawpin!’ These lads have already had three of me best whiskies
and the bairns need food.”

“Enough
yourself, old man. Your meal will be ready when it is ready and not before.”

“Hmmmmp!”
he grumped.

Connor
laughed out aloud.

“Somethin’ funny lass?”

“You
sounded just like my da then, when you hmmmmped.”

His
voice rumbled. “I doona think I made such a noise.”

“Yes
you did da. You do it all the time,” smirked Aaron, who was a pea-in-a-pod
younger version of his father.

Douglas
glared at his son, who immediately stopped smiling. “Shut it Aaron! 'Tis is no
laughing matter.”

Ignoring
his son, Douglas looked at Connor. “Your father, is he a Scot?”

Smiling,
she held the hot teacup between both hands. “To the bone.”

Douglas
squinted at her. “Is he? What’s his name then?”

She
bit her lip, to stop herself from smiling. “Angus.”

Douglas
rolled the name over his tongue a couple of times. “Angus MacDonald? Angus
MacDonald... Where have I heard that name before?" He looked across the
table to her, eyebrows beetled. "Does he attend the Aberdeen Highland
Games on the first Saturday in July? I know a good many of the Scots who come
to compete.”

“Yes.
Da and my brother Cameron usually come up to the New England for the Games most
years.”

“Do
they now?” He took a long sip of his whiskey, pursed his lips, rolled the
liquid round in his mouth and swallowed. Still frowning, he stared down into
his glass. “Angus MacDonald… I know that name… Where do I know that name…?” He
took another mouthful, when suddenly he made a strangled, choking sound. The
whiskey in his mouth spurted like a fountain into the air then rained down on
the chequered tablecloth in golden droplets.

Connor
pushed back her chair, went round the other side of the table and hammered him
between the shoulder blades with her fist.

Spluttering,
he turned round on his chair, to face her. “Angus MacDonald! Not the Angus
MacDonald, the breeder of the Nimerlin Fey line of the black Friesians?”

“The
one and the same.” She returned to her chair and sat down. “I see you’ve heard
of him.”

Douglas
turned his head and shot a disbelieving look to Ewan. “Heard of him! Jesus
Christ! His horses are legendary and his dressage school…”

Leaning
forward on her elbows, she intertwined her fingers in front of her. “No Mr
McVey, my dressage school. My parents
bequeathed the business to me. I am owner and dressage master for the Nimerlin school.”

“Well
then,” a wide smile broke across his face as he picked up his glass and took a
small cautious sip of the amber liquid, “perhaps this arrangement willna be
such a disaster after all!”

****

The glossy, blue-black feathers of
the raven blended into the gloom. His white eyes, ever alert, widened when the
Shadow commenced its familiar dance. The black roiling mass leaned down on him.
"Sentinel! What have you to report?"

"Dark One, there has been an
arrival. A female—"

The Shadow reared back as if to
strike. "You would dare to waste my time with trivialities? I care not who
comes and goes. You know your mission! You know the opportunity that I
seek." A cackling laugh erupted from her chest. "Oh the joy! I relish
the moment when I can—"

The raven's beak clacked line bone
on bone. "There are God threads around this female!"

Darkness surrounded the bird.
"God threads you say? Be warned, do not lie to me. Your mate and chicks
depend on your loyalty." Five thin projections sprang out of the Shadow
just as a black glistening tongue sprang out of a gaping maw in an exaggerated
display of finger licking. "Return! Find out what you can and report to me
immediately! The evil tongue reappeared and circled the black cavernous mouth.
"You know the price of failure."

Saturday, May 9, 2015

The year I decided to treat my writing hobby seriously, I had the usual dreams – of seeing my books on shelves, receiving lovely fat advances from big name publishers and giving up my day job to write full time.

But I was also beset with doubts; doubts of my ability to first, finish a book and second, receive that heart pounding call. Then once I was published a new set of doubts hit me; what if no one likes my book, what if no one buys my book and (shudder) what if I receive awful reviews?

Well, I’ve had my share of both good and bad reviews. I have yet to see a print book on the shelf and I now base my dreams on the reality of being an Australian writer in today’s world. It’s not easy, it’s hard to make a living and you have to work hard if you want to achieve the success you crave. I’ve learned everyone’s path is different and what will work for one writer may not work for me. I’ve grown a thicker skin, learned to treat my writing as a business – you can’t please everyone. I do read my reviews however with a critical eye and think about what the reader has said and whether and how I should improve the next story.

Fear can cripple you, hold you back, keep you in what you think is a safe comfortable place and we all doubt ourselves at different stages in our lives. So if you’re holding back on submitting that first book to a publisher, holding back on entering contests, holding back on going to a conference or joining a writing group, focus on your dreams and take that first step. You never know where that one step will lead you.

Latest release:

My latest release is Cosmic Fire, episode two in my Mars Academy series. The series is based around the need of the Earth Republic to find and claim another earth-like planet. In the story line, Mars has long been colonized and remains under the Earth Republic’s control, however, there is an underground movement of revolutionaries who want an independent Mars. On the exploratory space ship, I have a crew made up of people from both the Earth Republic and also Mars, some of whom are part of the revolutionaries. And also on board is a secret group of saboteurs. I’ve thrown in romance, action, adventure and a touch of suspense – all my favourite ingredients.

Ensign Dana Lawson of Sector Seven fire team on the star ship, Columbus, has one goal: her own command. On an exploratory mission to Alpha Centauri A, she has the opportunity to earn her stripes, but instead faces a challenge that threatens to send her plans up in smoke.

Rick Morgan, a guy with heartbreaker imprinted in his DNA, the warmest smile and the bluest eyes she’s ever seen, ignites a fire inside her heart. He is trouble, on every level…and he’s brought his dangerous past with him. Now a saboteur has Dana and Morgan in his sights. Together, they must learn his identity before he strikes again and kills them both…or destroys the ship and everyone on board.